


Good Morning, Good Morning (To You)

by kyaasnow



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Asexual Otabek, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Morning Cuddles, Soft Boys, Yuri is a messy little bean, i didn't mean to make him ace but it totally works??, i don't know what else to put in tags hi, literally just pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-11-02 08:12:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10940496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyaasnow/pseuds/kyaasnow
Summary: Otabek loves watching Yuri wake up.





	Good Morning, Good Morning (To You)

**Author's Note:**

> Omg hi! This is my first fic for YOI (and actually the first fic for any fandom I've written since like 2014? ANYWAY) and I'm kinda nervous. It's literally just pure fluff. Honestly the most self-indulgent thing I've ever written. But I rewatched the anime this week and my love for Otayuri was rekindled and also I'm adopting Yuri Plisetsky.
> 
> Thanks bunches to my beta readers, Rebecca ([reebeegee](http://archiveofourown.org/users/reebeegee/pseuds/reebeegee)) and Parker, for assuring me that this isn't completely ridiculous and for giving me great editing notes.
> 
> If for some strange reason you want to find me elsewhere, I hang out on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/kyaasnow) and [Tumblr](http://kyaasnow.tumblr.com/).
> 
> P.S. The title is from the song "Good Morning" from _Singin' in the Rain_!

Some people wake gradually. A slow rise to consciousness. Frowning with their eyes closed as the morning light interrupts the darkness of sleep. Blinking slowly until it doesn't hurt as much to face the window. A languid stretch, arms above their heads, to breathe life back into their bodies.

Otabek is not one of these people. He wakes up in a snap. One moment in deep sleep, and the next, his eyes are open and his aching body is ready to warm up and get on the ice.

Today is no different, even though the Olympic figure skating events ended yesterday, and for once in what feels like forever, Otabek has really _nothing_ to do. He's not sure what to think of this. It makes him feel a little out of control.

He rubs his eyes, picking at the little dried gobs of sleep gathered at the corners. And just as he moves to sit up, another body rolls into his side.

Yuri.

Lucky for Otabek, Yuri is a gradual-waker. Which means on the rare days they have the luxury to fall asleep together, Otabek gets to witness him greeting the world.

Yuri Plisetsky is not what one would consider a pretty sleeper. He usually spreads his limbs across the bed haphazardly, taking up as much space asleep as he does awake. His hair is a mess, even more than usual. Once he's deep in sleep, his mouth hangs open, drool dripping down his cheek more often than not. He's a loud breather, too, though Otabek doesn't mind. To top it off, Yuri doesn't really have _pajamas_. If he's planning on falling asleep, he's usually in the same T-shirt he wore that day and his underwear. If he falls asleep on accident, well. He'll be in the same hoodie and pants from the day. Either way, his clothes end up a sweaty mess in the morning because he runs hot.

At the moment, Otabek is intimately aware of this. Yuri's body pressed into his side is like a furnace, and his sweat-soaked shirt sticks to Otabek's bare arm and the skin where his shirt rode up during the night.

But for all Yuri's messiness, this is one of Otabek's favorite ways to see him. That ever-present frown is smoothed away to reveal the peaceful face of not a soldier, but just a teenage boy. His nose twitches in between breaths. Lately Otabek has been getting the most ridiculous urge to kiss it.

He's known for a while that the way he feels about Yuri is a bit beyond normal friendship. But he hasn't figured out a good word for it. It's not quite sexual. Otabek is pretty sure he's not sexually attracted to people, anyway. And while Yuri is certainly attractive – pretty, which is a word Otabek would never use to describe him in his presence unless he had a death wish – it doesn't stir anything of _that_ nature within Otabek.

"Love" is a word he's played with. _I'm in love with Yuri Plisetsky_. He's practiced those words in his mind multiple times. It feels closer. More welcome than the other thing. But still... his feelings for Yuri are intense in a different way.

Yuri's noisy breaths tickle the skin under Otabek's ear, and slide over the spot where his neck meets his shoulder. Something damp touches his sleep shirt, and he tries not to wonder whether it's drool or sweat. A slim hand curls into Otabek's shirt, just over his abdomen.

This casual intimacy never fails to send a thrill through him. Yuri is openly affectionate with probably two humans in the entire world. The fact that Otabek is one of them makes him a little breathless.

In his sleep, Yuri mewls. A sign that he's waking up. Otabek runs a hand down his spine.

Yuri has grown taller since they reconnected in Barcelona. He has about an inch or two on Otabek, though Yuri would deny it. It's entirely possible that Yuri longs for the days when he could cling onto Otabek like some antisocial spider monkey, or hide his face in his shoulder blades when his fan club came around. Yuri's chest and shoulders are a little broader now. But on the whole, he's still lean and long. Still slim enough that Otabek can feel the actual ridges of his spine as he strokes his hand down Yuri's back again. And again.

Another quiet mewling sound escapes Yuri's mouth. It's cute, until he snorts in the middle of his next inhale and then smacks his lips. He turns his face slightly and purses his lips.

"Waking up, are you, Yura?" Otabek murmurs.

Yuri hums – not really awake yet, but close. Otabek brushes the blonde tangles away from Yuri's face. Even as he's gotten older, Yuri has still maintained the soft, fairylike angles of his cheeks and jaw. It's somewhat funny to Otabek. The fact that such a sweet face could belong to someone so rough and exquisitely furious. Sure, Yuri has a soft heart (not that Otabek would ever point this out – unless he had a death wish) but he's mostly just a rush of intense emotion. He's the wild thing that people would rather expect from Otabek.

They forgot to close the curtains all the way before going to bed last night, and sun streams in from part of the window. It makes the sheets and their skin warm. Even Otabek feels languid in the heat. Yuri snuggles further into his side and mumbles something against him.

"What's that?" Otabek asks.

"You're so uncomfortable," Yuri repeats, a little louder now but still muffled.

Otabek huffs out a short laugh. "You're the one who rolled on top of _me_."

"And if you were _comfortable_ , maybe I'd have slept longer." Yuri pushes down on Otabek's abdomen – _hard –_ and lifts up slightly. He sniffs, wiping at the drool on his cheeks with the back of his wrist. He's so messy and unglamorous and Otabek wants to keep images of him like this in his head forever.

"You're cute." The words escape Otabek without warning. He is not this. Not a person who speaks without thinking. But in the early morning, when the bed is warm and Yuri is warm and snuggly and the world seems to only exist in this hotel room, Otabek loses himself a little bit.

"Shut the hell up," Yuri grumbles. The corner of his mouth curls in a snarl, but he rubs his face in Otabek's chest.

It's an expected reaction. Yuri is awful at accepting affectionate words. But he doesn't do the whole bashful routine with everyone. Otabek squeezes Yuri's side.

"Hey!" Yuri shouts, jumping in his arms.

"Ready to get up now?"

"What for?" Yuri pulls back until his head is situated on the pillow next to Otabek's. Those green eyes are bright despite the bleariness of sleep. Otabek finds himself holding his breath until Yuri blinks.

"I thought you wanted to go see curling."

Yuri scoffs. "Why would I want to see that boring sport?"

"You literally said last night before we went to bed that we had to make sure we woke up on time to go see the curling final."

"I did not!" But the rising color in Yuri's smooth cheeks prove that he does, indeed, remember saying that.

"We still have time to make it," Otabek says, glancing over Yuri's head at the bedside clock. "It doesn't start for another two hours."

"How about let's go back to sleep." Yuri closes his eyes.

"If you don't want to go, then I can just go with JJ."

Yuri's eyes fly open again, fury-filled and wild. "You wouldn't."

Otabek says nothing. After a moment, Yuri growls and jerks a hand through his hair. Or rather, attempts to jerk a hand through it. The locks are so tangled that his fingers get stuck immediately. With the quietest sigh, Otabek reaches up to help him free his hand.

Whenever Otabek sees him at competitions, Yuri's nails are filed short and clean. Lilia's doing, no doubt. But he knows that on the off-season, Yuri bites his nails down to the skin. And the ones that happen to grow longer end up with a black line of dirt beneath them. A groomed Yuri Plisetsky is nothing but an illusion created by his coach and choreographers for the ice. Otabek knows better.

Their faces are close once Otabek gets his hand free, and he can smell Yuri's sour morning breath, and he wants to turn away, but then Yuri mumbles, "I like you."

Otabek raises an eyebrow. "What?"

"What?" Yuri snarls back, the soft moment dissipating within the blink of an eye.

Otabek wants to laugh, but instead he just shifts till he's lying on his back and staring at the ceiling. The sun is still heating up the bedsheets. That combined with Yuri's own body heat is almost enough to lull him back to sleep.

"I only like four things in the world," Yuri says quietly. "My cat, my grandpa, pirozhki, and you."

Otabek's heart stutters for a moment. This is something he knew implicitly, but Yuri had never said it outright. The words heat Otabek's skin more than the sun does.

"Your grandpa and I are things?" Otabek says when he can feel Yuri shrinking away.

"Shut up!" Yuri snaps.

"I'm just kidding." He turns to face his best friend. "I just didn't expect you to say something like that."

"Good." Yuri's frowning again, but it's hard to take him seriously when he's bundled in the blankets and his lips are still puffy from just waking up.

"What about Viktor and Yuuri? Don't you like them?"

Yuri sputters. "Why would I like those birdbrains? With their kissy faces and their dumb 'davai's whenever I skate? I only stick around them for the katsudon."

Otabek smiles. Because he's seen Yuri around Viktor and Yuuri, and it's like watching a cat be coy with his favorite humans.

"I like you, too," Otabek says at last.

"Good."

"I like you enough that I didn't mind it when you farted repeatedly in your sleep last night."

"SHUT. _UP_."

This time, Otabek lets out a full laugh – or as full as his get. Yuri squirms under the blankets, only resurfacing once Otabek quiets down.

"Okay," Otabek says. He sits up, stretching his arms above his head with a short groan. "Time for a shower."

"Oooh," Yuri sings. "Together? Presumptuous, Beka."

Otabek turns to look at Yuri, whose face is still half covered by the sheet. "I never know," he says, "if you're joking or not. When you say stuff like that."

Yuri blinks. "What do you mean? Do you... want me to be joking?"

"I--" Otabek stops.

"Beka, you..." Yuri burrows even further under the covers.

Otabek understands.

"Is it because it's me?" he asks. "You want me? Or just someone?"

"You." Yuri says it so quietly that for a second Otabek isn't sure he heard anything. But then those big green eyes blink up at him.

Screw it. When has he ever not been weak for a vulnerable Yuri?

"Yura." He leans over and brushes Yuri's messy hair out of his eyes. And then, because he can't help it, he slides his hand over his blushing cheek. "What do you want?"

It's quiet. The heating unit suddenly sounds too loud.

"I don't know," Yuri mumbles. "I just want to hang out with you all the time. And make dumb jokes and watch dumb sports and cheer for you when you skate and sleep in the same bed as you. And, I dunno, maybe sometimes do stupid things like kiss and touch."

A knot loosens in Otabek's chest. He hadn't ever thought about what he'd want to hear from Yuri. Didn't really hope for any big declarations or torrid reunions. Whenever he thought about Yuri reciprocating, it was more of just... a feeling. A confession not much different from what their friendship has always been, but somehow bigger.

He didn't have any expectations. But if he had, it would have been this.

"That sounds fine to me," Otabek says.

Yuri's face brightens almost instantly. His face is still pink as he beams.

"Look at that," Otabek tells him. "You should smile more."

"No." Yuri turns his face into Otabek's arm. "My smile is stupid."

"Which is why it's nice."

Yuri doesn't respond. Not in words.

Instead, he wraps his arms around Otabek's neck and pulls him down into a kiss. He pulls him a little too hard. This is fine, because what else would he expect from a wild thing. The kiss is a little sloppy, and it tastes bad. This is fine, too. In fact, Otabek doesn't think much about the kiss itself.

Instead, he's thinking about those eyes of a soldier, that ferocity, that determination, and thinks, _This is mine_.

And he melts into the warmth.


End file.
